


The Things You Say (The Things You Do)

by ConsultingWriter



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, I took fae mythology and twisted it to suite my needs, M/M, Slow-ish burn, Tags to be added, might be longer than 3 chapters, my attempt at a fairy tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 13:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14333178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: Damian Wayne, Prince of Gotham, hasn’t felt anything but cold for years. Can Jon Kent, his childhood rival, change things? And even if he can, will Damian’s mother ruin it all?Silence fell and reigned over them and they both were content to let it. Damian closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth that soaked through his cloak and clothes and into the marrow of his bones.  At least until Damian felt Richard start to shiver slightly. With a tired sigh he pulled away from the warm embrace and slumped against the balcony.“I just want to feel warm again,” he whispered, head hung so low that it rested against the stone.





	The Things You Say (The Things You Do)

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been thinking about fae lately. This is the result. Unbeta'd as usual. So I was looking at it and I realized that only the first half of the prologue was published. I'm really not a fan of the coronation scene but I'm tired of working on it because it's been days and I still don't like it. This was the best that I could do so here it is. Jon will show up in the next chapter!

**_Prologue_ **

The sun was slow to creep over the horizon, but still Damian watched as it struggled to rise; as it threw pale imitations of its once radiate rays over Gotham.

His father’s kingdom was suffering. It had been for a long time; his mother’s doing, Damian knew. Not that anyone had ever actually shared that bit of information with him. As a child he’d once overheard a few of his father’s advisors muttering amongst themselves about it in an empty corridor. Damn the With Queen Talia, and damn her spawn—the Winter Boy. At the time he’d assumed the title was because of his aloof nature—behavior that had been trained into him since birth. Only recently had he come to understand what the moniker truly meant.

Damian gripped the balcony edge between his fingers tighter and the stone frosted under his palm. With a scowl he jerked his hands off of the edge. He couldn’t help but feel a sharp twist of betrayal at the sight of his ice powdered fingertips. Winter Boy. The truth, but a curse all the same. As a childe of his mother’s court he would never truly belong to his father’s kingdom, no matter how hard he tried.

The echo of footsteps down the marble hall made him quickly flip his hood up and over his head. He tugged the velvet lined rim down and dropped his chin, completely hiding his face. Even in his own home he couldn’t bear the thought of another’s eyes tracing over his face anymore. Couldn’t bear them tracing the swirls and dips of the permafrost that crept up his neck and jaw. That snuck behind his ear and stretched across his cheeks to the nostril of his nose and up into his hairline. It curled under his eye and carved faint veins in his eyebrow where hair would never grow. An unsightly mark that betrayed both his Strange nature and the lack of control he held over his recently acquired abilities.

“Damian,” his eldest brother and personal knight breathed, low and sad, in the doorway of his bed chamber.

At the tone he turned his head to the side to show that he was listening but made no move to take the hood off. He also didn’t fight it when Richard reached out and pulled it off instead. He closed his eyes and fought not to lean into his brother’s gentle touch when that hand moved from the fabric to cradle his scared cheek.

Damian wanted to lean into his brother and leech away the warmth that always seemed to glow from within Richard. Instead he straightened and pulled away. His brother’s hand was most likely already numb, not that Richard would ever complain, and if he dared to glance down Damian knew he would see a layer of ice already sheeting his brother’s skin.

Beside him, Richard leaned against the balcony’s stone railing, eyes taking in the same sunrise Damian had just been watching. “You shouldn’t be hiding today, of all days, Little D,” Richard said, eyes fixed firmly on the horizon.

Damian made a noise of disagreement at the back of his throat. Today was exactly the day to be hiding. The birthday festivities, _his_ birthday festivities, would be starting soon. The doors of the palace would be opened to noblemen and women from all over both Gotham and her allied kingdoms, and Damian’s coronation was sure to be a big draw. He couldn’t stand the thought that so many strangers would have the opportunity to gawk at him.  And there was no doubt they would gawk when they discovered the truth, when they saw his face for the first time since his seventeenth birthday exactly a year ago. Damian Wayne, heir to the throne of Gotham, was Strange. And not just Strange-born, but and Unseelie fae and Prince to the Winter Court.

Richard shifted beside him but Damian ignored it, unwilling to have this argument with Richard again. Richard was always so positive, he was sure that the people would still love their prince once they found out the truth, but Damian knew differently. They would never accept an Unseelie fae as their king. And why should they? The Unseelie were notorious for their tendency sway easily from benevolent, if haughty, beings to terrible and vicious creatures at the slightest provocation, and sometimes, people reported, for no reason at all.

“Dami,” Richard sighed and Damian swallowed the lump forming in his throat. It was painful to disappoint Richard but he just couldn’t feel the same way. Couldn’t bring himself to be so optimistic about this.

“It’ll be okay,” his eldest brother said when it became clear that Damian wasn’t going to respond.

“How?” Damian croaked, finally turning to meet his brother’s earnest gaze, “How can you be so certain?”

Richard studied him for a moment, taking all of Damian in, but before he could find it in himself to feel self-conscious or regret his question, Richard swept him up in his arms in a tight hug.

“Because I believe in our people, Damian, I believe in Gotham, and they love you. You’re their warrior prince and their feelings won’t change just because you’re Strange-born.”

Damian wanted to trust in his people the way Richard did. He wanted to believe in them more then anything, but he could only think of the way he’d feel. How betrayal would weigh on his shoulders if the positions were reversed. Especially since…

“And when they find out about my mother’s curse?” He queried, turning to his brother, “and make no mistake, they will figure it out eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” His brother tried but Damian simply raised an eyebrow at the ignorant act.

“Oh, come off of it,” Damian snapped, “I’ve known since I was a child.”

Richard fell silent for a moment and Damian felt darkly victorious, for once his brother didn’t have all the answers.

“Bruce will take care of it,” the older man said finally, decisively, “Before you ever take the throne. It won’t be a problem.”

“So much faith, Richard,” he muttered, turning away from his brother, “In our people, in our father, in me. What’s going to happen when you run out of naivety?”

Richard laughed, “That’s not how faith works, Damian.” He wrapped Damian in his arms and leaned into his back, letting Damian support his weight, “It’s okay though. I’ll have enough faith for the both of us.”

Silence fell and reigned over them and they both were content to let it. Damian closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth that soaked through his cloak and clothes and into the marrow of his bones.  At least until Damian felt Richard start to shiver slightly. With a tired sigh he pulled away from the warm embrace and slumped against the balcony.

“I just want to feel warm again,” he whispered, head hung so low that it rested against the stone.

The sound that left his brother was heartbroken and he reached out for Damian once more. Instead of letting Richard touch him, however, he pulled away. Richard had been exposed to his frosty touch for too long. Anything more and he’d be at risk of exposure.

“It’ll be okay, Damian,” Richard whispered, sounding wounded at Damian’s rejection, “It’ll be…I’ll make it okay, I swear.”

Damian bit his lip, and nodded, “I believe you.”

“Good,” his brother replied fiercely, “Good.”

* * *

 

A sea of people flooded the courtyard and more still filled in, even as they had to stand flush against the palace walls. Comfort didn’t matter, the only thing they cared about was the chance to catch a glimpse of their absent prince. Once upon a time Prince Damian would spend entire weekends roaming the lower cities, they would catch him browsing through the stalls and playing games with the younger children while rough housing with the older.

And then his seventeenth birthday had come and gone. At first his absence was noticed and dismissed. It had been a year since the prince had come to Gotham, it would make sense if he’d gone to visit his mother. But then the weeks had faded into a month, and then three, and then Sir Richard, the Prince’s body guard and first Commander of the Royal Army had ridden into town with a hand-written list and a sad smile carried upon his lips.

The prince, he explained, had fallen ill and was no longer able to leave the castle. Sir Richard was there to take his place, until their prince recovered. The children still played and the vendors still enjoyed the weight of the royal gold but it wasn’t the same. So, they waited and their prince never recovered, never returned, and they worried they never would again. Until the announcement had come out.

The palace gates would be opening for the prince’s coronation and every citizen was welcome. Finally, they would see their prince.

* * *

 

The morning was predictably cold, but Damian couldn’t feel it. Only noticed the temperature because of the way that Richard’s breath fogged as his brother led him towards the doors that lead out to the courtyard.

Damian reached up as they walked, checking the placement of his hood. It sat like it should, covered his face completely. He would have to decloak before the coronation could officially begin, he knew, but for now it was a safety net that he needed.

“My son,” his father rumbled when he and Richard came to a stop in front of the doors.

Damian met his father’s eyes and reached out a gloved hand, wanting this moment of weakness—his father’s comforting touch—before he had to reveal himself. His father frowned down at the offered hand, swept up to Damian in a single stride, and pulled him into a strong hug.

“My son,” his father repeated, holding fast to Damian. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. This was enough.

“Your highness,” Richard murmured and tilted his head towards the door to remind the king that they needed to go.

Father nodded and released Damian, who followed dutifully behind him.

The crowd roared when Richard threw the doors open and stepped to the side to reveal their rulers. All along the castle’s parapets, soldiers watched for any ill intent aimed towards their king and prince, but there were only two knights within the immediate vicinity to guard the monarchs. Richard stood to the left, his presence a silent comfort to Damian. On his father’s right stood Jason, his father’s body guard, head of castle security, and second Commander of the Royal Army. When the king wasn’t looking, Jason subtly snuck a glance at Damian and shot him a thumbs up.

Damian rolled his eyes but he couldn’t deny that the stupid gesture helped sooth the sick feeling churning in his stomach.

“People of Gotham,” his father called, standing tall and proud as he faced the crowd, “esteemed guests, we have gathered here today for the coronation of my son, Prince Damian Wayne.”

The crowd, which had fallen into silence at his father’s address, once more broke into thunderous cheers. The response overwhelmed him but still he stepped forward to stand at his father’s side.

He watched as his father addressed the crowd but he couldn’t get a hold on the words, couldn’t focus on anything but his own nerves and uncertainty. It was only his father’s hand on his back that snapped him out of his trance and guided his motions as he took a deep breath to steel himself and shoved his hood off.

Gasps and then total silence as every set of eyes in the courtyard fell on his face. His stomach sank, continued to sink as the silence stretched from shock into disquiet. Damian braced himself for the worst.

“The prince,” a young voice cried, mournfully, “The prince has been cursed!”

Richard chuckled beside him and Damian felt awash with tentative relief. That was not a rejection. Not yet.

“No,” his father corrected, “Your prince is not cursed. He is Strange-born, like his mother.”

 Richard stepped forward and in front of Damian to hide him from the scrutiny of a thousand curious eyes. “Do I hear any objections to the coronation of Prince Damian Wayne as heir to the throne of Gotham?”

It was a formality, Damian knew, but hearing his brother say such a thing hurt. It hurt significantly less when a hush fell over the crowd. All eyes were on the king, heads held high. No one was objecting. The relief made him want to fall to his knees but he stood tall, he would not dishonor his people with such a display of weakness.

With his head held high, Damian took his vows and accepted his responsibilities with a solemn voice. He would make his Richard and his father proud. He would make his people proud.  

 “I present to you, Damian Wayne, Prince of Gotham, heir to the throne of Gotham!” Richard pronounced.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I would say visit me on tumblr but I don't use it anymore so.


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